Tuesday, April 6, 2010

It's me. I'm at home. In my house. Where I used to live. Of course this is just temporary. Staying here wouldn't make any sense. No. Tomorrow I will leave again to go to some other place where I don't live because that's what I do. And why? All so I can entertain you. You're welcome.

Last month we made a TV show, me and a bunch of my friends. Honestly, they did most of the work. I ate things. If eating things is a job then I did the work of many people. I don't know enough about making television to know if eating things actually is a job, so I'm unable to tell you how valuable my contribution to the process really was. But I ate anyway. While I ate other people acted and pointed cameras at one another and turned lights on and off and someone yelled 'action' and 'cut' and then someone else yelled 'please don't put that flaming space heater next to those gas pumps' because I was trying to help and had put a flaming space heater next to some gas pumps. After that I went back to eating.

Now that it's over, I miss it very much. In my real life no one says things just because I write them down and give them to them, even though I've stressed how much easier this would make all our lives. No one asks if I want anything to drink or eat or if they can get my dry cleaning. No one

See that? The little space between this line and the last? That's two days in that little space. If I remember right I was in mid sentence and Mars started crying and I went to attend to him and POOF, a space. That's exactly how my life feels these days. You're right in the middle of something and then something else comes along and by the time you look up there's just this... space between where you were and where you suddenly are. In that particular space up there I left home. Rented my insanely blue rental car. Checked into my hotel. Began to eat doughnuts for breakfast all over again. Let me stress that blue cars and hotels and donuts are awesome and that having someone else make my bed is the only way my bed has ever been made. I'm a lucky individual and I'm well aware of it, and if my lamentations about constant travel indicate otherwise, then allow me to make it clear: I love my job and I'm happy to have it, however long it lasts.

But. Before I left Nixie was getting off the bed. Whenever the girls climb down from things we say 'Be careful Nixie' or 'Careful Ripley' or 'Careful whoever you are' because we're good parents who want our children to be safe but also have trouble telling them apart. Anyway, Nixie was getting off the bed, and as she did, she very calmly said to herself 'Careful, me'.

If you have a soul you'll understand that's just incredibly fucking cute. And you'll understand how no matter how much you love a job, it's hard to leave moments like that in the spaces that result from it.

2 comments:

I like to take my ancient king sized down comforter (in its duvet cover) when I've been stuck in hotels. I throw off the covers and use my little piece of "at home" comfort. Sometimes the maids make the bed with it, and it's funny to see it properly covering a bed instead of wadded up as the dogs and/or I left it.

I fixed the neighbor's Honda 50 dirt bike and then got to see his 6 year old grandson drive it around. It went from "be careful" to "no, it's not okay to jump the stump in my yard." Nixie's "careful, me" thing is just way too cute. Don't even think about letting the girls or Mars drive around on a Honda 50 until way past 6 yo.

I sit here every day with my own versions of Nixie and Ripley, wondering if I'll ever get to that point where you currently are.... will I ever find a moment of peace to finish writing what I've started? When will I get some time between temper tantrums and diaper blow-outs to say something clever on paper (or a laptop)? But I wouldn't trade my kids for the world.

You, my friend, are blessed to have the best of both worlds. Don't regret either one of them.

I'm going to bed tonight way too late because it's the only quiet time I have... after everyone else has gone to sleep. And I go to bed a little extra happy to discover that, each time I check in on you, a little more success has found its way to you.

Kyle Killen...

... writes fiction and other nonsense. His work has appeared in Mcsweeney's, Salon.com, The Mid-American Review, The Berkley Fiction Review, The Black Warrior Review, and numerous other places ending in the word Review. He previously wrote letters to gestating children and even won an award once.

He now lives with a large number of women and cats, which is exactly as hip and exciting as you think it sounds.